Chapter Thirteen
Just kiss already!
Will
I lean through the front door of Ruby and Roman’s house to drop my ten – or twenty, who’s counting? – bags inside. Then I stomp the snow off my shoes before joining my mostly pink goods in the delicious warmth of the home.
“What is all that?” Roman asks, peeking over the back of the couch.
I grin.
“It’s joy , my friend. Joy .”
He blinks, then his eyes wander behind me, where Ruby’s bringing in her much more modest collection of shopping bags.
“Don’t let him fool you,” Ruby says, stomping away her own snow. “These bags are full of mandatory workplace torture and the fear of being sacked.”
Roman blinks again, then wrinkles his nose as he catches sight of Elodie coming in behind Ruby, carrying more bags. She said she plans to decorate Sweet & Salty, pending the owner’s approval, but something tells me she’ll be decorating first, begging forgiveness later. That something may or may not be a six-foot-tall blow up Cupid she said would be “just perfect!” to stick by the couches at the café. It cost fifty dollars and is non-refundable.
I got one for my office, too.
“Why are you here?” Roman asks.
Elodie looks at him for a cool ten seconds, then responds only, “Ew.”
I pull Ruby aside, making sure we have a good spot for the show.
“What are you doing?” she complains.
I shush her. “I’m getting us good seats!”
She groans, shaking her head. “Any seat is a good seat for me.”
I tsk. “I can’t very well interpret if I can’t see what’s going on, can I? And I’m not hollering across the room to you. It’ll ruin their whole… thing .”
She huffs, but doesn’t protest, letting me guide her to sit on the stairs, where we have a perfect view of the battleground – also known as the entryway and living room.
Roman’s jaw sets.
“Here they go,” I mumble. My leg bounces, erratic excitement needing an outlet.
Ruby’s hand lands on it, soft and warm and firm. “Stop that,” she hisses. “I can’t hear!”
“They’re glaring at each other,” I whisper. “Roman might be having an aneurysm!”
Ruby’s hand squeezes my thigh, electrifying the nerves all the way down to my toes.
“Elodie,” Roman grits out, jaw clenched.
“Roman,” Elodie retorts, mocking.
His jaw rocks.
“Are you staying for dinner?” he asks. “I only made enough for three.”
She bares her teeth, vicious.
I repress a squeal.
“She’s smiling. It’s about as friendly as a tiger,” I mutter to my stairmate.
She squeezes an acknowledgement, lighting up my nerves again. Beautiful torture.
“Ruby said you were making enchiladas. You’re telling me you have three enchiladas in the oven?” Elodie scoffs.
“I’m telling you I have twelve enchiladas in the oven, and not a single one is for you.”
Her eyes narrow to slits.
Ruby’s mouth opens.
“No!” I beg her. “Just a few more minutes? Please?” I give her puppy eyes, and trust that the power of them comes through in my voice.
Ruby pauses, then sighs. “Two minutes,” she concedes.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders and squish.
“Thanks, Rubble!” I whisper-shout, rocking our bodies side-to-side.
Her hand leaves my leg so that she can use her arm to elbow me.
I stop rocking us, chuckling, but leave my arm around her. Elation roars through me when she doesn’t shrug it off.
“If you don’t feed me,” Elodie says, oh so sweet, “I’m going to call your mother.”
Ruby sucks in a sharp breath. I’m right there with her. Them’s fighting words for sure .
Roman agrees.
“If you call my mother,” he states, irate redness crawling up his neck to cover his cheeks, “I’ll tell your boss about what you do with the end of day waste.”
Elodie gasps, pointing an accusing finger at him.
“You only know about that because you do the same thing!” she accuses.
“She’s pointing at him. Index finger, not middle,” I inform Ruby.
She hums, head tilted toward me so that her ear faces our arguing loved ones. I get distracted by the smattering of freckles that run across her nose, and almost miss Roman’s reply. Helpfully, he snaps it loud enough to regain my attention.
A good guy, that Roman.
“I’m a senior member of the staff. I can decide what to do with waste. You are a flighty, irresponsible employee who’s barely worked there for six months. And what was that you did before this? A yoga instructor to sheep?”
“It was goat yoga, you–”
“Okay!” Ruby interrupts, standing.
I pout up at her. It was just starting to get good!
“Roman, don’t be a jerk. Elodie is eating enchiladas. And if you get her fired for giving food to the homeless, just like you do, then I’m selling your fancy kitchen mixer online for ten dollars.”
Roman looks like he’s been shot. I wish I had popcorn and little boxes of candy – maybe a soda the size of my head as well. The trifecta of entertainment snacks.
“And Elodie!” Ruby turns to her, and I watch as her smug face falls into angelic innocence.
“Yes, Ruby Red, my very best friend in the whole world?”
Roman scoffs, and I cough to cover my laugh. “Suck up,” he mutters.
Ruby’s eyes narrow.
“Stop antagonizing the man who controls your food tonight. It’s stupid, and you’re not stupid.”
“But he-”
“‘But he’ nothing!” Ruby’s hands land on her hips. “Do you think you’re going to get better enchiladas somewhere else?”
Elodie’s mouth snaps shut, and now Roman’s the smug one. She sticks her tongue out at him, and his smirk falls from his face.
The oven beeps.
“Time for dinner!” I exclaim, slapping my thighs as I stand. “Who’s hungry?”
I grin.
No one else does.
This is going to be fun.